Dolls for Play
by Camlop
Summary: The BAU is called in to help Chula Vista police catch a psychotic serial killer who normally kills two random people from every city he travels to but has suddenly decided to kill five in Chula Vista. Also, JJ receives news regarding her mother and the BAU team welcomes Prentiss' replacement, Agent Alex Blake. Season 8 NO SHIPS/PAIRS besides the usual Morgan/Garcia flirting.


Is it a bad thing that it's fun to toy with Dr. Spencer Reid?

This is basically Season 7, except the real season has yet to premiere. I don't write anything for the show so this is called Season 0, since it's a fan fiction season.

DISCLAIMER: I obviously don't own Criminal Minds, otherwise I wouldn't be writing this. Otherwise, I myself would be in the show. Except I'm too young for that, so nevermind.

SEASON 0

EPISODE 1. DOLLS FOR PLAY

The BAU team was gathered in the briefing room, but a certain member of their team was missing while another was off fetching himself some coffee. While S.S.A. Aaron Hotchner acted as though nothing were out of place, S.S.A. Derek Morgan and S.S.A. Jennifer Jareau were obviously taking in the empty seat. The two agents continuously glanced at the seat while S.S.A. Dr. Spencer Reid diverted his attention to a manila folder full of documents regarding the new case.

"Hey, where's Rossi?" Reid asked, shooting his head up to look at Hotch. Morgan and JJ's eyes flicked over to Reid.

"As of now, with you four," a voice announced, and they turned their heads to see Rossi walking into the room holding a mug of steaming coffee. He sat down next to Reid and took the file from Reid, despite a pile of folders gathered in the middle of the table of which JJ did not spread out due to being distracted. "So where's Agent Blake?"  
Again, Morgan and JJ's eyes rolled to the seat that S.S.A. Emily Prentiss would normally occupy. Of course they got a chance to say their good-byes, and Morgan was actually the first person who Prentiss informed that she was leaving to rejoin Interpol, and obviously they've lost members before, but this time, Prentiss was gone for good, just when it seemed their team was solid. It always felt weird losing a team member, but it felt as though Prentiss had left her presence in the air, even though she was physically no longer reporting here.

Reid spotted the direction of their glances, prompting him to follow their gazes and look at the empty seat. He shifted in his own seat uncomfortably, which Hotch immediately noticed. Hotch cleared his throat, just as technical analyst Penelope Garcia waltzed into the room clutching a tablet.

"Hello, my pretties, let's get this show on the road," Penelope said quickly as she made her way to the large, wall-mounted screen. "But before I do that, where's this new agent we're waiting for?"  
"Running fashionably late," a woman's voice said, and the BAU looked over at a middle-aged brunette standing at the door. She took a deep breath and smiled. "Agent Hotchner's BAU team, right? I'm S.S.A. Alex Blake."

The team stood up from their seats as Agent Blake stepped towards Morgan, who was closest to her. She extended her hand and he shook it, smiling. Agent Blake repeated the same with JJ, Rossi, Reid, Hotch, and Garcia, before she made her way to the seat. Morgan and JJ looked away as soon as Blake made contact with the previously empty swivel chair.

"Let's save the rest of the friendly exchange for the jet flight," Hotch said in his usual monotonous voice. "Garcia, brief us."

Blake looked up at the screen and pointed to a picture of a map in the top right corner. "Georgia, eh?"

"Uh, yes, miss, ma'am, Agent... Blake," Garcia stuttered excitedly, stepping away from the screen to give the team a better view. "Atlanta, Georgia, specifically. Two bodies were found with deep holes cut into their chests, where the heart had been removed and replaced with toy dolls dressed up to resemble the victims. The same was done with two more victims in New York City, then two more in Detroit, another two more in Las Vegas"-Spencer took obvious interest in this, narrowing his eyes- "..and, would you look at that, two more in Los Angeles"-again, Spencer looked interested- "...and now the Chula Vista Police Department is requesting our help because _five _bodies have been found there. All of the bodies were put in local places, such as parks or outside libraries. The coroners in each city noted blunt force trauma to the backs of the heads, which knocked the victims out and then the unsub did his... thing. The victims died from blood loss and the removal of their chest contents."

"Chula Vista?" Rossi repeated. "Sounds familiar, I think I've been there. Seeing as the distance between every city is vastly different, I can't guess where it is, exactly."

"San Diego County," Reid piped up, straightening his posture in the chair. "Chula Vista is a part of the County of San Diego."

"I've always wanted to try surfing," JJ joked, giving a small smile as she shrugged.

"The jet takes off in ten minutes, so let's finish this quickly," Hotch stated, bringing their attention back to Garcia. "Garcia, continue."

Garcia nodded. "Alright, let me bring up the pictures."

The agents narrowed their eyes with interest. The photographs were gory, showing everything Garcia had described. Garcia glanced up at the screen and quickly looked away.

"I can't believe anyone could do something so cruel and disgusting like this," she said, blinking away the thought of it.

"It's possible he cannot control these urges," Rossi noted, pointing up to the bodies. "Garcia, were any of the CSIs or the coroner able to determine if the dolls had been added immediately or after he positioned them like that?"

"A witness by the name of Jonathan Porter claimed he was walking through a park at night when he thought he saw a tall, muscular man-likely around six foot, but he couldn't tell much more- dragging something and dropping it on the grass field. Porter said he saw the man look over the body, and then the man ran off. The police are assuming the man came back hours later with a doll bought and modified."

"When did the witness say this occurred?" Reid asked, resting his head on his arm, which was propped up on the table.

"Um, at around 11:30 pm Wednesday." Today was Friday.

It was Morgan's turn. "How long would it take to get to the nearest store selling dolls like these?"

"The CSIs mentioned there's a Walmart two blocks away. Walking, it would take fifteen to twenty minutes, coming from the exact spot the body was placed and found. Driving, it would take ten, because you have to walk up to the car, start it up, drive there, park... all that good stuff."  
Blake leaned forward in her seat. "Alright, kids, it's my turn to play. So this serial killer's been crossing state lines, but they stopped in Chula Vista to kill _five _people instead of their usual two. That's out of the M.O. However, the killer's sticking to his signature of opening up the chest cavities, emptying the contents halfway deep-including the heart-and placing dolls resembling the victims where the hearts used to be. How does a killer keep part of his signature but stay in the same location instead of moving on to another city?"  
"He could be getting restless and devolving, getting more desperate to kill," JJ offered.

"The murders could be a way of release for this unsub, therefore there's a chance there's a stressor in his life that prompted him to commit these murders and mutilations in the first place," Hotch said. "Perhaps a loved one died due to a heart problem. Maybe they were unable to get a heart transplant, or maybe they did but it failed them."  
"Or maybe a wild animal clawed at the loved one's chest, killing them," Reid suggested. The team gave him weird looks. "What? It's a possibility. And also, 60% of all psychopaths have lost a parent, so there's a chance the loved one was one of his parents, maybe at a young age so they couldn't imprint good values into him. He likely was put into the foster system, or maybe the other parent started neglecting him due to the death of the other parent. He never had enough time with his parents to be taught how to be normal."

"Y'know, it's possible this guy could be a psychopath because he doesn't display remorse, which someone with a conscience would show. Plus, he's picking out seemingly random targets," JJ added. "Hey, who were the victims?"

Garcia brought up each victim one-by-one. "In Atlanta, Emma Crowne and Joseph 'Joe' Boyetta. NYC, we have Justin Maxwell and Logan Quimby-Ackard. Detroit's reported Stephanie Grayson and Robyn Skye. In Sin City, we've got victims Bryan West and Josephina Ramirez. L.A., Zaira de la Cruz and Pauline Gomez. San Diego, it's Carla Riley, Ian Hanks, Priscilla Flores, Eric Smith, and James Green-Locke. Ages all vary, from sixteen to fifty years old. All have a mixture of race, education, that stuff. Personally, I don't see any patterns."

Hotch stood up from his seat and looked at the team, most particularly Agent Blake. "Alright, thank you Garcia. Let's go."

"Wait, Hotch, what about our clothes?" Morgan asked, standing up along with the rest of the agents. "Won't it be hot in San Diego?"

"Aw, don't worry about your clothes, Hot Stuff," Garcia joked, walking over to Morgan and placing her hand on his shoulders. "I can take that shirt off for you, if you like."  
"Right now the weather's better than the East Coast," Hotch said, ignoring what Garcia had said to Morgan (which had triggered a chuckle and flirtatious smile from Morgan). "The temperature and weather will be perfect. Now if you're done worrying about which black shirt you'll wear, what everyone's already dressed in is fine."

And with that said, the team scurried out of the room carrying their files, briefcases, and bags, including Garcia due to the time zone difference, which was more drastic than usual.

"So Blake, I read your file," Morgan started, sitting across from her in the jet. "Georgetown University ex-professor. Pretty sweet."

"Yes, I taught Forensic Linguistics with students as intelligent and potentially capable as Spencer," Blake replied, flicking her head towards Reid. "Spencer has actually done lectures for my class before."

Morgan looked over at Spencer, who was sitting on the other side of the jet. He perked up with the sound of his name. Morgan chuckled with disbelief.

"You _know _Spencer?" Morgan said, smiling. "Guess he likes his wome-"  
"Before you finish that sentence, Morgan, I'd like to advise you not to scare the newest member of our team," Hotch said, walking by with a glass of water to sit in the back by himself. Blake and Reid exchanged confused looks, but Morgan covered his mouth to stifle his laughter.

"You'll get used to it," Garcia told Blake, looking up from her laptop screen as she typed away. Morgan looked at Garcia.

"Hey, wait, you don't even know what I was gonna say," Morgan defended himself, still smiling. "Hotch interrupted me."

"You were going to say something"-Garcia's eyes flicked up at Blake, who was paying attention, therefore affecting what Garcia was going to say- "...inappropriate."

"Alright, Baby Girl, since when have I said anything inappropriate?"

Reid piped up, holding a box of cards in his hands. "That time I told you I had a long night, you suggested that I had been with a woman having-"

"Alright, I don't need to hear anything else," JJ interrupted, looking over at the new agent next to her. "And neither do you. Trust me."

"No, don't hurt me! _No!"_

_Screams, yells, shouts_

_Beatings, blows, hits, punches_

_Scratches, cuts, stabs_

_Hide it in your heart_

"What do you want, money? Just take it, here!"

_Your heart is dirty_

_Contaminated, polluted, filthy_

_In need of a cleaning_

_Let's get rid of that heart for you_

"What are you doing? Hey, let go!"  
_Secrets are locked_

_in the heart,_

_so I've heard_

_Let's make it easy for you_

"Why are you doing this?"

_Ssh, keep quiet,_

_keep still, keep shushed_

_Let's hear the silence_

_Beautiful, isn't it?_

_"Help! _Somebody help me!"

_No one will_

_I am helping them_

_You are the curse_

_Your heart is dark_

The flashbacks zooming in and out of the writer stopped. He put the pen down, looked over his fresh poem, and smiled.

"The world is my playhouse. The humans are my pawns."

Garcia's face whitened. They were twenty minutes from landing, but something on her laptop had startled her.

"Uh, sir? Agent Hotchner?" Garcia said, looking up at Hotch, who looked up from his newspaper.

"What is it, Garcia?" Hotch asked warily, standing up from his seat and making his way over.

"Uh, the Miami-Dade Police Department just reported something," Garcia stated, gulping nervously and looking at an e-mail full of pictures and information. She turned the laptop so that everyone could gather around, prompting Reid to join the group, who were huddled around the table.

"Really?" JJ gasped, her eyes fixated on the screen.

Hotch backed up and straightened himself. "There may be other victims are out there, if they only found these ones now."

Blake narrowed her eyes to get a clearer view of the screen. "Two victims found in an abandoned construction site in Miami... the female, Georgina Heights, was killed approximately four months ago... the male, Edward Fields, was killed approximately three to four months ago. Heights was thirty-seven, Edward was twenty-eight. Both have the same signature as our current killer."

"Apparently the unsub liked to travel, but for some reason he's staying in Chula Vista," Rossi noted. "The question is, why?"

Blake looked at Rossi with a confused note. "You guys used that word before. 'Unsub?'"

"Oh, Gideon told us to use that as an abbreviation for 'Unknown Subject' instead of suspect," Reid explained. "Gideon quit the BAU a while back."

A moment of silence passed, proving the subject to be a fragile one. Blake knew who Gideon was: Senior S.S.A. Jason Gideon. It became clear, based on the team's silent reaction to Reid's words, that the reason for Gideon's leaving was a tragic one. She did not press the issue.

Morgan looked up at Blake. "I wasn't going to say anything inappropriate."

"FBI?" a sheriff asked, approaching the team as they did the same. He extended a hand to Hotchner, who shook it.

"Yes, this is the Behavior Analysis Unit," Hotch greeted. He proceeded to crack one of his rare jokes as the sheriff proceeded to shake the others' hands. "In case you hit your head and got amnesia, I'm S.S.A. Aaron Hotchner, this is S.S.A. Derek Morgan, S.S.A. Jennifer Jareau, S.S.A. David Rossi, Dr. Spencer Reid, S.S.A. Alex Blake, and our technical analyst Penelope Garcia."

"Nice to meet you all, I'm Sheriff Daniel Watson. There's a Hilton Hotel a few blocks away, but I'm sure you've already booked rooms; I'd be surprised if there weren't any left, if you haven't."

"Uh, excuse me, is there a place I can set up my tech stuff?" Garcia asked, stepping forward with her laptop and a briefcase (which was full of wires and gadgets).

"Yeah, right over there," Watson looked over at the conference room, which was empty. Garcia scurried off and Watson looked back at Hotch. "Two in every city, but five in Chula Vista? Something's up with that. We figured the killer's staying here, so hopefully you guys can help us catch him. And the coroner brought up the theory that the killer may be schizophrenic, due to the damage done to the corpses, but the amount of mutilation very controlled, so that's been ruled out."

The sheriff turned and led the team to the conference room, where a whiteboard, portable bulletin board, and projector screen were set up. Garcia looked up at them as she typed away on her laptop; she was sitting at the end of the table. The team sat down, Morgan being to her left and Reid being to her right. Next to Reid sat JJ and Blake. Hotch took one of the remaining seats, but the sheriff stayed standing at the door as an officer told him something quick and left.

"I gotta go, we've got reports of an unrelated shooting. Usually violent acts aren't this close together, but it seems like a coincidence." And with that said, the sheriff dashed off, keeping a hand on his holster.

"My gun's better than his," Reid murmured to himself, surprising Morgan and prompting a chuckle.

"Depends what gun you're talking about," Morgan joked, laughing to himself. Reid looked at him with a confused look while Garcia playfully hit him. The remark caught everyone else's attention except for Hotch, who seemed to not have heard it. "Sorry, I couldn't help myself!"

"See, this is what I mean when I say that _you_ say inappropriate things," Garcia quickly said, taking a break from typing. Morgan chuckled and Garcia turned her laptop around. "Alright, so the Atlanta murders happened March 20th and 21st. The Big Apple victims were murdered April 1st and April 2nd. Detroit's victims were killed April 23rd and 25th, which slightly breaks the time pattern between each victim in each city. In fabulous Las Vegas, we learn that apparently what happens in Las Vegas stays in Las Vegas because he killed the two victims May 10th and 11th, then he fled to Los Angeles, where he killed a Beverly Hills resident June 1st and a Hollywood resident June 2nd. Then the Chula Vista murders occurred the 10th, 15th, 18th, 21st, and the 27th of this month."

"Wait, I just thought of this: if this thing is sort of an impulse thing to him, why is he able to control how many murders he commits in each city?"  
"It could be a subconscious thing, or maybe the unsub thinks he can get away with the first murder but freaks about the second and he flees to a new city," Reid speculated. "Perhaps for the Detroit murders, he forced himself to relax after the first murder, but maybe the fear of being caught eventually won and he left the city."

"Or maybe he just likes change," Rossi shrugged. "And he's hitting major cities. Yeah, San Diego's major, but the city is more major than Chula Vista, which is just a big city in its county. The main attraction's usually the City of San Diego. So why did he pick Chula Vista over San Diego?"

"Maybe there's a connection," JJ guessed. "I mean, he's killed five people instead of leaving. Maybe he has family here."

"Or these could be his last murders," Hotch said. "The unsub may choose to die suicide-by-cop, but not until after his outburst of anger is finished being dispersed here."

The BAU team nodded with agreement at Hotch's statement, but Blake sat up with a sudden thought.

"Okay, so the Chula Vista murders are more spread out from each other," Blake pointed out. "Like JJ said, maybe he has someone he cares about here, or perhaps something bad or influencing happened here and that's why he's staying here. I'm thinking more of family, however, because with the murders spread out like that, he's probably being kept busy by family members, though there's a chance he doesn't want to be with them. Though I'm betting it wouldn't be his parents, and if he has any biological relatives, he may blame them for not saving him from his parents as a kid. So I'm thinking they're adoptive parents, but he doesn't care about them since he's a psychopath. So somehow his adoptive parents are still alive, or we haven't found their bodies yet."

"So our unsub was adopted and he has his adoptive parents here in Chula Vista," said Hotch. "Since he's a psychopath without a conscience, he doesn't have friends nor lovers. Psychopaths cannot love. It's likely that his adoptive parents convinced him to come here somehow, but it's also likely he may decide to kill his own family to relieve his murderous urges."

Blake spoke next. "Due to the ways he's obtaining his victims, that tells me that he's a sociopath, too. He's too socially awkward to be able to talk to smooth talk his vics, so he sneaks up on them and knocks them out."

Morgan sighed. "Something tells me this is gonna be a wild case."

"Gabriel, do you want bacon?" the elderly mother asked, turning from the stove to look at her son. He was looking around the house, taking notice of every detail as he sat at the dining table.

"Bacon is juicy," Gabriel muttered. "Yes."

The woman took some bacon strips from a pan and put them on a plate full of scrambled eggs and a small pancake. She walked over to Gabriel and placed the plate in front of him, just as a man around the same age as her walked in.

"So Gabriel, do you know why we brought you here?" the man asked, sitting down across from him. Gabriel shook his head. "We gave you a chance to attend Dade University, but I called the university to ask for your transcript and apparently, you've never been a student there."

Gabriel looked up from his breakfast plate and at the man sitting in front of him. They weren't supposed to find out about that. After all, shipping him off to where he lived up until age ten was a bad idea; he had negative memories in Florida.

"I've been supporting myself by working at gas stations, stores, and taking janitorial jobs."

"But that's not good enough," the man said. He sighed. "Look, I know your biological parents were not good influences on you, but that doesn't mean you have to live a crappy life."

_"I'm not living a crappy life!" _Gabriel yelled, standing up and banging his fist on the table. His adoptive mother hurried behind the father.

"Mark, hon, maybe it's best if you don't... push him," the woman suggested. "His past is a fragile topic, remember?"

"I know that, Cynthia," Mark, the man, replied. "But it doesn't give him an excuse to fail."

Cynthia sighed and looked over at Gabriel. "They really affected you badly, didn't they? Your mind is so damaged, you can't focus on what's really best for you."

"Shut up, _shut up!" _Gabriel yelled. "I don't care what you two think, you're just people who fed me when I was a teenager. Hatred has plagued my soul long ago, and there's nothing you can do about it."

"Actually, Gabriel, there is," Mark began, and he glanced at the clock on the wall. "Oh, Cynthia, you're going to run late for work, you'd best head off."

"Right! Thanks, hon," Cynthia said, leaning down to kiss her husband on the head. She picked up her satchel from the floor and she hurried off, exiting the house.

Mark turned back to Gabriel, who was narrowing his eyes at him.

"You mean it's not too late?" Gabriel asked. "I can be fixed?"

"Fixed? You mean, you know something's wrong with you, psychologically?" Mark asked, impressed.

Gabriel took a bite of his food. "I'm not like other people. I am... different."

"How'd you figure that out?"  
"Signs. I saw a man get shot several times on the street by a gang member. Everyone ran away screaming, but I felt calm-excited, really-about what had happened."

Mark frowned. "Did you stick around?"  
"Yes, I went to get a closer look at the man," Gabriel shrugged, smiling slightly at the memory of it.

"To help him?"  
"His blood was spewing everywhere, he was struggling with breathing," Gabriel was getting lost in the memory of it. He was reliving it in his mind. "He was shaking uncontrollably; he'd been shot in the chest, and he was spitting out blood, a lot of it... so much blood!"

"Gabriel..." Mark had begun to freak out and he rose from his chair, slowly pulling out his cell phone.

"It was so magnificent! I got a rush, it was so thrilling to just look him in the eyes as the life got sucked out of him..."

"GABRIEL!"  
Gabriel gasped and looked up at Mark; Mark had interrupted his thoughts. Gabriel narrowed his eyes and stood up. "Maybe you should go check the laundry; by now it should be done."

"Right." Mark turned around, glad to have an excuse out of the situation. He looked down at his phone and punched in a number, but before anything else could be done, he felt a strong blow to his head and he fell to the tiled floor, darkness consuming his mind.

Gabriel smiled and took the wooden club, which he had made himself from a block of wood, and stuffed it back into his backpack, which was resting against one of the legs of his chair. The club already had dried blood from the _others, _and now his father was among them. Gabriel pulled out a jagged dagger, which also had blood on it. He loomed over his father's still body; it was time to play.

"I know it seems quicker than usual, but we're ready for a profile," Hotch said after the team had taken a short break. "No interviews will be needed, since the murders were done by random."

The team walked out to the bullpen, where a large body of police officers stood, waiting for the profile to be delivered. Usually they didn't see this many police officers in one place, but then again, Chula Vista was a big city. Sheriff Watson was back, and he announced to the officers to keep the cases secret; if the media got a hold of these stories, the killer likely would run off, frightened, and they'd lose him. Either way, they had to work fast.

"Heads up, when we say unsub we mean Unknown Subject. We are referring to the serial killer at large," Hotch explained, starting off the profile.

"Alright, the guy we're looking for is a sociopath," Morgan began, looking at the officers as he spoke. "He's a caucasian in his mid twenties to early thirties, and either one of his parents died when he was around four to seven years old."

"The death likely had something to do with the heart or chest," JJ continued, taking off from where Morgan had ended. "It's also likely that he was surrounded by girls' dolls when he was young."

"His remaining parent was probably drunk often and neglected and possibly beat the unsub," Reid stated. "It's likely the mother was the one who died and the father was the one who mistreated the unsub. At around age eight to twelve, the unsub was adopted, likely in the Miami area, and today he's in Chula Vista because his adoptive parents found a reason to take him in."

"The unsub is socially awkward, so that explains why he knocks out his victims instead of approaching them first and talking to them or luring them," Blake explained. "He doesn't have any friends or lovers, just his adoptive family. He probably doesn't have siblings and if he isn't caught, there's a high chance he'll attack his adoptive parents."

"Something in Miami made him tick and decide to start murdering back in March," said Hotch. "He probably experienced another death and that gave him a rush, although the death wasn't because of him. This death was probably a murder and the victim was probably somehow hurt in the chest area. This experience inspired our unsub to kill."

"In regards of the unsub, he's using these murders as a way to relieve his urges and desires to kill and feel the rush," Rossi told the officers. "It's an addiction to him and he will not stop. He will likely only be stopped if he is killed."

"The unsub is a psychopath, so he barely feels fear, if any. The only reason he's fleeing from city to city is either because his adoptive parents wanted him to travel to Chula Vista, or he could be trying to fight the urges to murder so he can be normal, but he never does stop," Hotch said, wrapping it up. "Of course, it could be both of those."

"Now if you guys have any questions, ask me or the agents," Sheriff Watson said, stepping in front and turning to face his officers. "Now let's catch this guy."

"Hotch?" a voice called out, and the BAU turned to see Garcia approaching them. They didn't need to look at her to know it was her; from the corners of their eyes, a flash of neon green and orange was pretty blatant. "I know who the unsub is."

Flashbacks took over Gabriel. He clutched his head, wishing that the memory would go away. But really, he knew it wouldn't. Part of him enjoyed the memories, but another part desperately wanted them to stop.

He saw himself as a nine-year old boy, hiding in his bedroom closet playing with several dolls his mother had made before she died. She had worked for a toy company, and often she'd bring home dolls and fashion them to look like Gabriel's friends and relatives. Despite the dolls being for girls, Gabriel was attached to them; they were like his escape from whenever his father came home drunk. He often hit Gabriel if he found him while he was drunk; during his hangovers, his father would neglect Gabriel and just weep over the loss of Mary-Anne.

The flashback quickly changed to a car ride with his mother. Gabriel had just turned four years old, but he could never forget any detail of this tragedy. His mother was on the phone, telling Gabriel about her studies at some place called "John Hopkins." Something about his mother wanting to become a heart surgeon, but Gabriel was busy watching cars pass by through the window. His mother was driving fast; it was a habit of hers.

Suddenly a large truck came out of nowhere and his mother screamed, swerving the car and crashing into a tree. When Gabriel came to, he looked at his mother to see a large branch stuck in his mother's chest, but she was already gone; the branch had struck her organs. To the right passenger seat laid a box of dolls, and one of them had flown out of the box and landed on his mother's lap.

The flashback changed again, but this time he was being beaten by his drunken father.

"You little twat!" his father yelled. "You killed Mary-Anne! You are nothing! No one will ever love you! She did, but that was a mistake!"

Gabriel blinked several times and the flashbacks were gone. He looked down and saw his adoptive father, Mark, dead with his chest carved out. Gabriel knew what he had to do; remove the organs, including the heart. He did so, stuffing them into a small box he had in his backpack, and he stood up, admiring his handiwork.

"Time for the doll," Gabriel laughed to himself as he pulled out his car keys and headed out of the house.

Garcia made a few clicks on her laptop and up on the conference room projector screen was a picture of the unsub as a child. He was sitting alone in the park, playing with toy dolls while other kids played around behind him.

"That has to be him," JJ said. "Garcia, when was this photo taken?"

"It was taken nineteen years ago, so the guy you're looking for is twenty-nine years old now. He's ten in this picture, and the picture was taken as part of a Miami-Dade adoption campaign. His name is Gabriel Kelly-Mitchell, his biological parents were Mary-Anne Kelly and Ryan Michael Kelly. When he had just turned four, Mary-Anne was killed in a car crash due to a large tree branch ripping through her chest. It just so happened that Mary-Anne was studying cardiovascular studies at Miami-Dade University and, according to her friends, she also had a pastime of dressing up toy dolls to look like people that Gabriel knew. After her death, Ryan became a drunk and he neglected and beat up Gabriel. When Gabriel turned ten, Ryan was arrested for the obvious charges and Gabriel was taken into foster care, but a Chula Vista couple on vacation spotted him on TV while they were in Miami; little Gabriel was on TV with this same photograph as part of the campaign I told you about. The couple, Mark and Cynthia Mitchell, adopted Gabriel and took him to Chula Vista, where he graduated from Bonita Vista High School. They shipped him off to Miami where he lived in a small apartment, but that's all I have, you'll have to interview his adoptive parents. Here's their address, I'll e-mail it to your mobile devices so you guys don't forget," Garcia quickly said, finishing it off with a deep breath. "This kid sounds like he's really troubled."

"Feelings of empathy are impressed into toddlers and at around age eight, children develop a sense of morals," Reid spat out another one of his typical statistics and facts. "Gabriel didn't have positive influences to implant those values into him. Guys, Gabriel's our unsub."

"Do his adoptive parents have jobs?" Hotch inquired.

"Yes, they do," Garcia said slowly as she brought up a box with the parents' information. "Mark works as a manager at a drill company, but he took this week and next week off on unpaid leave. Cynthia works as a secretary at a cosmetics company in Downtown San Diego, and she just left for work one hour ago, she gets off at six."

"Alright, thank you, Garcia, you're awesome," Hotch said in his monotonous voice. The team looked at him, surprised that he had complimented Garcia; it was rare that he stepped out of his strict demeanor. Hotch turned to Morgan. "Morgan, you take Reid and JJ with you to the Mitchells' house; if the unsub's there, see if he's willing to be interrogated. If he's not, interview Mark. Garcia, send me the address of Cynthia's work. I know I usually apply for warrants, but I don't have time, so do that for me. Rossi, Blake; you're with me."

The agents rushed out of the conference room as Garcia typed away, obeying Hotch's order. It was time to crack down on the unsub.

JJ sat in the back while Reid sat next to Morgan, who was driving. While Reid was spewing out random statistics and facts, Morgan was wishing Reid would stop rambling. That, of course, would not happen without an interference. Before Morgan could say anything, his cell phone rang. He pulled it out and answered.

"Hey, Baby Girl, you're on speaker," Morgan greeted.

"Aw, I hate when you're a party pooper. But I'll let you off this time, Hot Stuff," Garcia spoke, prompting Morgan to smile. "Next time, you'll have to face some punishment."

JJ shifted in her seat uncomfortably, which Morgan caught in the rear view mirror. Reid was busying himself by looking out the mirror.

"Alright, whaddaya got for us?"

"Well, apparently the Judge is bored out of his mind, 'cause he was surprisingly glad to be able to give us the go for arresting Gabriel to interrogate in case he doesn't cooperate. You have your warrant, but unfortunately you've already left so I can't give it to you. I've e-mailed you the warrant, though, so let's hope the unsub flies with that."

"I'll print it out if he doesn't volunteer to be interrogated," Morgan replied. "Thanks, Baby Girl, you're the best."

"You know I'm so much more than that," Garcia laughed. "Your Goddess of Technology must go fetch coffee to fuel her genius mind. Toodles!" Garcia hung up and Morgan put his phone back into his pocket, a smile on his face.

"Next time Garcia calls you, remind me to drag Blake over so I can see her reaction," JJ joked, looking at Morgan with a sheepish grin.

"Speaking of Blake, what do you guys think of her?" Reid asked, his eyes scanning the cars on the road ahead of them.

"She seems cool," Morgan answered. "Intelligent, but I think she's worrying her head off about impressing us."

"I think she'll fit in great," JJ replied. "Of course, we'll all miss Emily."

The trio silenced in thought of Agent Prentiss. Although she left the BAU to do something she really wanted to, they did wish she was still with them.

"I wish Prentiss got to meet Agent Blake," Reid broke the silence. Morgan glanced at him.

"Oh, yeah, how come you didn't tell us before that you've helped Blake with her college class?" Morgan asked, curious. JJ sat up in the middle back seat, eyeing the side of Reid's face. Reid shrugged.

"It didn't seem important. And you guys never asked."

"We didn't ask because we didn't know," JJ responded. "What's she really like?"

"Intelligent, but she does a bad job at keeping her personal life a secret," Reid smiled. "For a college professor who taught students as gifted as me, it's surprisingly easy to profile her."

"You profiled her?" Morgan repeated, raising an eyebrow. "That's an unspoken rule!"  
Reid shrugged again with a sheepish grin. "Yeah, but she wasn't a profiler at the time."

"So what did you deduce?" JJ asked, intrigued.

"Well, I'm pretty sure she has a boyfriend."

"Anything else?"

Before Reid could respond, the car slowed and pulled to a driveway on the left. For a residential street, it seemed nearly as busy as a freeway.

"Must suck to live here," Morgan commented, stopping the car in front of the house's garage. "Alright, we're here: the Mitchell household."

Reid looked up at the house as he climbed out of the black SUV. "Seems like a decent place."

The other two exited the car. Morgan had his hand on his holstered gun, but with his other hand he pulled out his FBI identification. The trio headed up a paved walkway that led to the front door, which was ajar. Morgan pulled out his gun; JJ and Reid followed suit.

Cautiously, Morgan and JJ headed in. JJ went upstairs while Morgan checked the downstairs rooms. After clearing nearly every room on the first story, Morgan headed to the kitchen, which was attached to a dining room. Reid cleared the garage and he scanned the fenced backyard, but to no avail. He and Morgan caught a glimpse of each other through a glass sliding door in the kitchen, but at the same time they both saw a dead body and a box full of organs lying on the kitchen floor: Mark Mitchell and his chest contents.

"JJ, we got Mark," Morgan called out, his eyes glued to the body as he headed to the sliding doors to let Reid in. "Get down here."

Within a matter of seconds, JJ reached the kitchen, having gone down the stairs while putting her gun back into her holster. "Upstairs is clear, nothing out of the-" She froze at the sight of the body. "Mark Mitchell, huh?"  
Morgan pulled out his cell phone and speed-dialed Hotch. "Hotch?" A pause. "Yeah, except there's a problem." Another brief pause. "Mark's dead. His chest is carved out, but there's no doll, meaning Gabriel's out buying and preparing a doll."

JJ and Reid exchanged worried looks. Morgan said a few more words and hung up, slipping the phone back into his pocket. JJ placed her hand forward, palm up, as if she was expecting to receive something from Morgan.

"Morgan, Gabriel will see the SUV and flee," JJ stated. "I need to move the car."

Morgan nodded and he pulled out his keys, dropping them onto JJ's palm. She hurried out; Morgan and Reid soon heard the car motor roar to life and they looked down at the body.

"Well, it's too late to interrogate Mark," Morgan sighed as he looked up at Reid, who was looking at the body with concern. "Hotch is parking; he's at Cynthia's work building."

Reid turned and glanced at two plates; one was empty, and one had barely been touched. The empty plate was the closest to Mark.

"They were having a late breakfast. Mark finished his," Reid realized out loud, moving around the table. "Morgan..."

Morgan looked at Reid and followed his gaze; a navy blue backpack sat against the chair where Gabriel had sat. Reid pulled out gloves and slipped them on, squatting down to go through the backpack. Reid pulled out and raised a bloody club, which had fresh blood: Mark's. He also found a rough dagger in need of sharpening. Somehow, the outside fabric of the bag was clean.

"Alright, we're gonna need a CSI team," Morgan said, pulling out his cell phone.

"Morgan, what about the unsub?" Reid reminded him quickly, nervousness in his voice as he looked over at the front door.

"Kid, I know that," Morgan reassured him, glancing at Reid. "He'll be back any minute and we'll catch him."

The sound of a car door slamming shut and footsteps caught their attention and they quickly crouched, hiding. Morgan hid against the wall as he put his phone away, prepared for the unsub to walk past and into the kitchen. Reid hid by the kitchen counters.

"What if it's JJ?" Reid whispered, worry evidently etched into his face.

"It's not," Morgan said. "JJ parked the car somewhere else."

They fell silent again and the footsteps got closer and closer. Within a matter of seconds, the shadow of the unsub could be seen. Reid gulped and blinked, his gun raised at where the unsub was about to appear.

As soon as the black converse stepped forward, Morgan jumped to his feet with his gun steadily aimed at the face as of the unsub. Reid did the same. The unsub wore a gray sweater, which was weird considering the Southern California weather.

_"FREEZE, FBI!" _Morgan yelled, surprising the unsub. Gabriel raised his hands and slowly backed up, but before Morgan could reach for his handcuffs, Gabriel's eyes darted to Reid and he made a run for it, sprinting back to the front door.

Morgan and Reid turned the corner, beginning the chase which would undoubtedly end with Morgan tackling Gabriel (why did Reid even try?), but before Gabriel could get through the door, JJ appeared right out of the door and she raised her foot, causing a surprised Gabriel to trip and fall on his face. JJ aimed her gun at the downed unsub and she kneeled over him, putting her gun away to handcuff Gabriel.

"Gabriel Kelly-Mitchell, FBI, we need to take you in for questioning. We have a warrant."

Gabriel kicked and attempted to twist around, but by then JJ was off of him and Morgan was aggressively lifting him up by the back of his collar.

"Morgan, pull up his sweater," Reid instructed, pointing at Gabriel. "He might have put it on to cover up the blood on his shirt."

Morgan did so and sure enough, Reid was right; underneath was a white shirt soaked with blood. The sweater was thick enough for the blood to not transfer all the way through. JJ raised an eyebrow at the blood; she could also see dried blood on Gabriel's hands and under his nails. She pulled out her cell phone and speed-dialed Hotch.

"Hotch, we've got Gabriel. He attempted to run. He's wearing a sweater to cover up his shirt, which is soaked in blood. His hands are also covered in dried blood, we're taking him in for questioning." A pause. "Yeah, we're about to call the police department over, along with CSIs. Are you going to tell Cynthia about Mark and Gabriel?" Another pause. "Alright, good luck."

JJ pocketed her phone and she looked up at Morgan, who was trying to calm down a squirming Gabriel. Reid looked at JJ with concern.

"How 'bout we just let the cops drive Gabriel?" Morgan suggested, obviously angered by Gabriel's desperate behavior, which included spitting on Morgan's shirt. "There's no way I'm letting Gabriel go in the SUV."

"Fine, but I have an idea," JJ said, and she walked up to Gabriel, dodging his attempt to spit at her. She raised her gun at Gabriel. "If I shoot you, I'll make sure you get shot somewhere non-vital, so you feel all the pain but you won't die. Or, we could make this less painful if you quit acting like a damn ostrich with rabies and calm the hell down."

Gabriel hesitated but closed his eyes, forcing himself to calm down. He opened them, staring at the gun in JJ's grasp. Much to their disturbance, Gabriel began to smile.

"Of course," Gabriel said in an eerily calm voice. "I don't have time for pain."

JJ slowly put the gun away, keeping her eyes on Gabriel. Morgan did not let go and Reid was on the phone requesting police officers and CSIs; it was an excuse for Reid to not look at the unsub, since his back was turned to Gabriel.

"I think it's obvious you three won't be the ones interrogating me," Gabriel said, looking JJ directly in the eye. Morgan had let go of Gabriel, but he was only an inch away, so Gabriel knew he couldn't try to escape again.

"And why's that?" JJ asked, crossing her arms.

"You're not intimidating enough," Gabriel answered, smiling wickedly. "I mean, this fool, this guy that was holding me a second ago, he's intimidating. But I just have a feeling I'll be put with fresher eyes, with agents who haven't seen me personally yet. And the kid over there? What is he, fifteen? Well, I don't have to explain that one."

JJ glanced at Reid, who was on the other side of the yard now, still on the phone. She knew Reid was trying to stay as far away as possible while keeping himself comfortable talking to other authorities. JJ looked back at Gabriel.

"The 'fifteen year old' you're referring to is in his thirties. He holds several doctorates and he attended CalTech and MIT. His safety school was Yale. You would not believe the things he can accomplish."

Gabriel chuckled. "I'll keep that information of his in mind. Maybe I'll have to pay him a visit to get to... know him better."

The sirens of nearby police cars came into range and before they knew it, the police cars were parked in the driveway, on the street, and on the lawn. Police officers hurried out and two of them approached Gabriel.

"Alright, Gabriel, play time's over," Morgan said, shoving Gabriel towards the two officers. Gabriel nearly tripped, but he regained his balance. "You won't get away with this."

Gabriel glared at Morgan as the officers grabbed him and stuffed him into the back of their police car. As the officers quickly pulled out, Gabriel kept his gaze on Morgan through the window, just as Reid returned to them.

"Is he gone?"

"Who were you on the phone with? I mean, it doesn't take that long to call the police, so who else were you talking to?" JJ asked, eyeing the cell phone in Reid's hand.

"What? Oh, just.. Hotch," Reid quickly said, stuffing the phone into the right pocket of his khaki slacks. Morgan gave him a teasing look.

"Is there a woman in Dr. Spencer Reid's personal life who we don't know about yet?" Morgan chuckled. "Garcia's gonna love hearing about this!"  
"What? No!" Reid replied, startled at Morgan's suggestion. "Seriously, Morgan, Garcia was right about you suggesting inappropriate things all the time."

"At least I'm not rambling random facts all the time," Morgan retorted, rolling his eyes.

JJ sighed and she put her hands on her hips. "Children, behave."

Before they could say anything, JJ's cell phone rang.

"Hey, what's up?" JJ answered. Her face fell. _"What? _When? How? Okay, well, I'm in California right now working a case, I can't-really? Oh my God. Okay, when I get back, I'll get there as soon as possible. Thank you, good-bye." JJ put the phone away.

Morgan and Reid were staring at her with concern. Reid spoke. "Is everything okay?"

"Uh, yeah."

"It was a rhetorical question, it meant that I wanted to know what that call was about without sounding too nosy."

"O-of course, Spence," JJ replied, smiling weakly. "That was a call from my niece, my mother, she, uh... she's in the hospital for, uh... for a minor heart attack."

"JJ, if you need to, you could talk to Hotch. I'm sure he'll let you leave early," Morgan suggested empathetically.

"No, i-it's fine, this case seems almost over to me," JJ sighed. "Just as long as the CSIs find more evidence connecting Gabriel to all these murders."

"They can dust the weapons for fingerprints," Reid said. "The unsub, Gabriel, he wasn't wearing gloves during the murders, as we saw after he came back with a-" Reid froze. "Wait a second, he didn't have a doll when he walked in."

The trio glanced back at the house.

"Let's check again, maybe he put it somewhere when he walked in."

As soon as they reentered the house, a male CSI approached them holding a male doll with gray, short hair and semi-casual clothes. It struck a great resemblance to Mark.

"I found this on the table in the living room," the CSI explained. "It was fashioned to look like Mark."

The three agents took a sigh of relief; looks like the case wasn't going to be harder than they had thought for a moment.

"Thank you, bag it as evidence," Morgan instructed and the CSI turned and left.

Hotch, Rossi, and Blake stepped out of the elevator on floor eighteen: Doe Cosmetics. Rossi sighed, glad that their long and epic journey to find an empty parking spot had succeeded. But now it was time to get to business. Locating Cynthia was easy; she was sitting at a desk right in front of them. They walked up to her and she looked up, wearing a headset.

"Hello, how may-"

Hotch held up his identification. "FBI. Cynthia Mitchell?"  
Cynthia's greeting smile fell to a worried frown. She stood up slowly, ripping off the headset. "Yes..." she answered warily.

"Is there somewhere we can talk privately?" Hotch asked, his eyes darting around the lobby. "I'll have Agent Rossi get your boss to excuse you."

"Boss? I'm the boss," a brunette woman said, stepping out from behind a wall. "What's this about? Why do you need my secretary? She's the only one working the shift."

"Well, you don't look busy, you can take over for her," Rossi said, flashing his own identification. "We need to nab her for a few minutes, but she might need to go to a hotel afterwards, unless she has family in the county."

"Why?" Cynthia walked out from behind her desk. "Has something happened?"

Blake stepped forward; it was her turn, and hopefully news from a womanly figure-a less intimidating person-would help a bit. "I'm sorry, Ms. Mitchell, but we-"

_"Ms. _Mitchell?" she questioned. "I'm sorry, I think you meant to say Mrs. Mitchell. I'm married."

"And now widowed," Rossi muttered to himself, frustrated with how slow this was going. Only Blake heard Rossi's comment.

The boss-Holly Yang, according to her name tag- pointed to a glass office in the corner of the lobby. "For privacy, use that office."

Hotch thanked her and the agents led Cynthia to the room, ignoring Cynthia's questions. Cynthia was growing restless; she knew something bad had happened, and the agents knew she'd break down about the news.

In the office, Cynthia took a seat on the swivel chair and Blake sat down across from her, lowering herself to Cynthia's eye level so as to not seem intimidating or threatening. Rossi and Hotch remained standing, taking note of Blake's careful choices.

"Cynthia, we're really sorry that this has happened, but your adopted son, Gabriel, is being investigated for murdering many people across the country. The rest of our team found your husband's body at your house; Gabriel killed Mark."

It took a few moments for the information to register in Cynthia's head. The information processed, however, and Cynthia's jaw dropped. Her eyes watered and she leaned forward, shocked.

"Oh... oh my God!" Cynthia choked out, fighting back tears. "I... oh my... he can't have... oh my God, oh my God, oh my God."

"Ma'am, we need you to calm down so that we can ask you some questions," Hotch said, careful not to use her name. There was no way Cynthia would have said anything if they didn't tell her the news first. "Please, it's important and you could save lives."

Cynthia nodded, taking a few minutes to recollect herself. She swallowed and took a deep breath, ending her hyperventilation. "I'm ready."

Rossi stepped forward holding a notepad. "When you were raising Gabriel, did you notice any strange behavior?"  
"Yeah, I know he's got... issues. I know that. But my husband and I, we thought... we thought we could f-fix it. We caught him skinning squirrels once, and it seemed to make him act like he was high on d-drugs or something. But he wasn't. So in high school, he... he told us that the Miami-Dade University accepted him, so we shipped him there. He told us he wanted to get doctorates in cardiovascular studies and psychology. And G-Gabriel said that he had a m-minor in, uh... in anthropology or something. So, but, I don't know... Mark called Gabriel asking for his grades, but Gabriel said he didn't know, so Mark, he, uh, he called the university, and it turns out they'd never even heard of a Gabriel Kelly-Mitchell. So we realized he wasn't getting the education we sent him there for and when he was visiting Los Angeles, we called him to come over so we could get to the bottom of this. He barely said anything until today, but I-I dunno, we were just so glad to see him again, after all these years, so we kept him busy with family activities. He didn't seem interested, but that must be because he... doesn't feel simple things such as love."

"You knew he was a socially awkward psychopath but you didn't do anything about it?" Blake asked.

"No-I mean, yes, but what I mean is, Mark and I, we'd been talking, and we wanted to send Gabriel to a mental institution. We figured since he wasn't getting better, that was our only option. Guess it's too late for that."

"How was Gabriel's relationship with the two of you?" Hotch asked, barely blinking.

"I dunno, he didn't talk much, he kept to himself most of the time. But we loved him, and I still do, but... you know...

Hotch glanced at Rossi and Blake, and they nodded. Hotch turned to Cynthia.

"Before we go, I have one last question. Did Gabriel ever talk about his life after he went back to Florida?" Hotch questioned.

"Well, he said he went to a bunch of cities, like New York City, Detroit, Atlanta, Las Vegas, but... that was it. He only said he enjoyed himself when he went to those places and he left it at that."

"Alright, thank you."

The trio left the office and Blake looked at Hotch and Rossi.

"Do you think Gabriel did it?"

"No doubt," Hotch said. "Everything she told us just completed the profile. It's time to make an arrest."

The BAU walked into the police department discussing Gabriel's behavior. Sheriff Watson approached the team holding a manila folder. The folder was labeled "GABRIEL KELLY-MITCHELL" and she handed it to another police officer passing by. The sheriff directed her attention to the team.

"Gabriel confessed to all of the murders. He said he did it for the rush," Watson said. "Apparently he only went to Miami to figure out more about his biological parents and his childhood. He saw a man get shot on the street several times and it fascinated him, so that's what flipped the switch."  
"Call us when the court hearing comes along," Hotch stated, and he turned to his team. "Alright, let's grab our stuff and head home. Good job, everyone."  
Garcia came rushing out of the conference room clutching her laptop to her chest along with a bag full of protruding wires and cords. She looked at Morgan and smiled.

"You catch the bad guy, my lovely chocolate hunk?" she asked, knowing what the answer was already.

"You know it, Gorgeous," Morgan responded, smiling as Garcia placed her hand on his arm. JJ smiled and joined the others, who had already parted to pack their things.

Rossi came back first holding his briefcase. Reid soon followed behind with his satchel and a cup of freshly brewed coffee; Morgan knew exactly what type of coffee it was. Garcia pushed Morgan playfully towards the conference room, gesturing for him to get his own things. Morgan did so and came back after Hotch and Blake, and soon JJ followed, on the phone with someone.

The sheriff came back, ready to say good-bye.

"Thank you for all your help, Agents," Sheriff Watson said. "It was an honor receiving the FBI's assistance."

"Well, Gabriel was a federal fugitive responsible for country-wide murders, so we would've done something about it, anyways," Blake responded, but she paused and smiled. "Thank you for having us."

"Alright, good-bye, Agents!" Sheriff Watson said, smiling, as she waved to the agents.

It was time to go home.

Garcia rushed to her window seat and she quickly turned on her laptop, plugging it into an electrical outlet built into the jet's wall. Morgan sat next to her with JJ and Reid across from them. Blake, Rossi, and Hotch sat on the other side of the plane discussing FBI protocols and Ivy League universities.

"Have I told you guys how much I _love _this jet?" Garcia said, beaming as her laptop booted up.

"Only about a million times," JJ chuckled, looking outside her window at the airport. The sun had just set.

"Well, as soon as we get into the sky, the fantastically gorgeous and wickedly intelligent me will be admiring the view, which is surely going to be just as gorgeous as my chocolate hunk," Garcia smiled, nudging Morgan who chuckled.

"You think the sky's a great view?" Morgan played along. "I have the best seat in the house; the view is golden and amazing."

"Aw, thanks," Garcia smiled.

Garcia shrieked with excitement as her laptop started up, causing the agents to stare at her. She blushed.

"Garcia?" Hotch called out.

"Sorry, sir," Garcia apologized, biting her lip. "Technology is just _that _amazing."

Reid looked at Garcia with fascination. "Did you know that Bill Gates once thought that-"

"Reid!"

"Sorry, Morgan... I'm used to talking about facts."

"It's one of the many things you do best," JJ smiled, looking at Reid. Morgan chuckled.

"I think I know what else you think he does best, JJ-ow! Hey, Penelope, what was that for?"

Garcia rolled her eyes. "You were implying something else inappropriate."

Morgan scratched his forehead. "Uh, yeah... I guess I _do _say inappropriate things a lot."

Blake twisted in her seat. "I have a feeling I'm going to end up babysitting this team a _lot." _Hotch, Rossi, and JJ chuckled while the other three gave her confused looks.

Welcome to the team, S.S.A. Alex Blake.


End file.
